


Restrain Yourself

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Restraint, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They must be quiet, or else it's their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restrain Yourself

_“Quiet,”_ she hisses through her teeth, voice sharp. But her nails digging into his shoulders, tanging in his hair, while sharp in their own way, does away with some of the threat. 

Jaime smiles against the skin of her neck, teeth nipping. “No.” He digs his hands into her hips, presses her closer, continues to lavish attention on this spot as he works his way up to her mouth. 

Cersei digs her nails in a bit harder, pushes back just a bit (but not enough to break contact, never) and gives him the type of piercing, controlling gaze that can get him hard in an instant. “Robert will know.”

He laughs loudly and her brow furrows, but she can’t seem to help herself in gasping, slightly, as he pushes her into the mattress. 

Jaime returns his attention to her lovely neck, his hands pulling the silks from her body. “He’s dead drunk.” The words are half-muffled against her skin. He presses hot kisses to her pulse, relishing the way she shutters under him as she tries to maintain her control. These sweet moments when he can make her break, collapse against him—this is what he lives for, really. If he could do nothing for the rest of his days but make her cry out in pleasure and fight with a sword, he would die a happy man. 

Cersei grips at his hair, pulling him up to her lips. He feels her sighs vibrate through his body, mingle with his own, until he’s unsure who they belong to. 

Her hands are at his breeches, falling into familiar patterns. He pushes into her slowly, deeply, knowing by the way she holds him tight—hands tangled in the shirt that she didn’t give him time to remove—that she wishes for him to linger. 

His lips don’t leave her neck, his forehead brushing her cheek as she arches back against the pillow, a series of broken gasps falling from her lips. Jaime closes his eyes, his hands gripping every bit of flesh that they can reach, his mind a clouded mess. Wine never did this to him; Cersei’s body was sweeter and more intoxicating than anything Robert would press into his hand during a feast. 

Cersei clenches around him, teasing him, and he nearly comes then and there, holding it off with a grunt. _How does she expect me to be silent?_

He takes her tease as a hint, and reaches between their bodies to stroke her clit, taking his own pleasure in how _exquisite_ it feels where they are joined. She comes with a half choked sigh, an expression of control that seems so very Cersei that he can’t picture it coming from another woman. 

And where she goes he follows in time, breaking against her and holding her tight as the waves course over and leave their bodies. 

Jaime eases up just a bit, (but doesn’t draw out of her yet, not completely) just enough to pull his sweat-stained shirt from his back. He can see slight marks along Cersei’s neck—not deep enough to last and give her away, but a marking nonetheless.

She reaches out to push some of the hair out of his eyes, watching him with a sharp smile on her lips. “Robert will go hunting tomorrow.” 

Jaime can already hear her screams of pleasure in his mind.


End file.
